


Yandere Prey

by Kimeyth



Category: Yandere Simulator (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Children of Characters, F/F, F/M, M/M, primal play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23441449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimeyth/pseuds/Kimeyth
Summary: The prestigious Agatsuma Academy is world renown. The richest families send their children for the best education money can buy. Yandere-chans Son, Cipher, suffers from the same condition his mother had. Just when he begins to give up on ever finding his other half, he meets Leila Quinn, a scholarship student. He starts manipulating the world to draw her closer to him, all the while, fighting off the suitors who have also discovered her hidden charm.
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

Cipher sat kitty-corner from the back corner closest to the door. The ideal spot of the room. The marble walls gleamed with opulence, giving the large classroom a chill. Hardly anyone noticed, wrapped in the finest silk and satin. Damien, Cipher’s best friend, sat in the front row, all the way towards the window shooting meaningful glances over his shoulder whenever he caught a break in his textbook. Cipher couldn’t stand the pretenses of small talk, and Damien knew it, but that didn’t stop the latter from teasing his antisocial friend. The rest of the room buzzed with excitement, talking very much about very little.

Despite his perfect grades, Cipher barely looked up from his textbook. The desire to get through the next two weeks as quickly as possible overwhelmed him. Three fanatic hyenas sitting just at the edge of his peripheral vision roared to life. They commanded the attention of everyone around them. Cipher barely spared them a glance. The girls cooed and preened like pigeons under his gaze, but their hungry eyes never left his body. The classroom was on the third story, overlooking the woods surrounding the island. There was a thin layer of frost still hanging over the ground, giving everything a misty, frozen fog. The carefully advancing trees cascaded onto the school grounds, waiting for the groundskeeper to neglect his duties and let them reclaim their taken land. The window was contrasted by the different colored blazers, each more ornate than the last. Perfectly white walls surrounded them, filled with rich dark school desks. The blue-grey carpet did its best to pretend the white bricks were more than prison walls, and the tittering of young adults was more than convinced by its best efforts.

The first semester was winding to a close in a little more than two weeks. Everyone was already starting to assemble some form of winter vacation plans. Cipher knew he would be making a trip home to his mother and father. His vacation would consist of pretending to be normal for his normal father and beseeching his mother to return home for good. He had grown tired of this tedious school and had all but given up on the hopes of finding the person his mother had described. Someone to fill the void he was born with. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. All he knew was he wasn’t going to find it in any of these gold diggers.

But the oncoming vacation was not the only point of intrigue. The week prior there had been an announcement. A young sophomore had committed suicide after his parents disinherited her. Though the news was sad, everyone was more preoccupied with its effect. The tragedy had opened a new slot for a new student, and news had spread almost half a dozen scholarship students were being added to the fray. Students who hadn’t seen a fresh face in months were prepping funds and favors to collect the new incomers.

The gossip was more than enough to distract the class. No one was searching for signs of weakness or hints of lies. It was getting difficult to feign sadness to fool his surrounding friends. It was one of the emotions he found most difficult to copy. Everyone grieved differently, so it was impossible to tell what emotions people expected of him. Half the time he could let his face fall blank, other times people expected him to burst into tears. It was a lost art.

The teacher, a rather thin tall man ironically named Mr. Graves, stood at the front of the room, going over the last of his notes. He scanned the classroom with his tired eyes as he waited for the bell to begin his period. Twenty students filled the desks, each chattering excitedly as if they hadn’t seen each other only a few days prior.

Mr. Graves cleared his throat just as the bell rang and he peered across the room, counting heads.

“Has anyone seen the new students?” he asked loudly. The room exploded into a surge of gossip as questions poured into the air. Cipher peeked at the world outside while the rest of the classroom buzzed like a rattlesnake’s tail.

“Quiet, quiet. I’ll explain.” He sighed, wishing he hadn’t said anything, “I’m expecting three new students today. LaLaurie, Madox, and Quinn. Due to their high test scores, they were put on the waiting list and have all been accepted into the academy after . . . openings became available.”

The class sunk into silence and Cipher tried his best to copy the somber look of those around him. He wasn’t sure if it had succeeded, but luckily it didn’t seem to matter.

“They were supposed to be here in time to make their introductions.”

“Girls or Guys?” Brady Rothchild called. The room strained to hear what Mr. Graves would reveal.

“Two girls and one boy.”

“They hot?” This comment elicited a few ill-mannered laughs from the surrounding peers.

“Well, Mr. Brady, I’m sure it won’t be hard to outclass you. But perhaps they’ll have low standards.” Mr. Graves earned a far louder roar of laughter as Brady leaned back in his chair. He shook his head good-naturedly. Mr. Graves returned to the board with his usual sly smile, the kind just heavy enough to crinkle his eyes.

“I suppose we will begin today’s lesson before they arrive.” He said.

At the exact moment Mr. Graves spoke, the door swung open, revealing a very plump Mrs. Bingley. She was an older woman, with breasts twice the size of her head and short brown hair, curled around the bottom of her ears. She wore thick black glasses and a shirt that was probably too low cut for a woman of her shape.

“Oh, Mr. Graves!” she gasped, “Sorry for the delay. I’m here with the new students. Their tour took longer than expected.”

Mrs. Bingley stepped aside as three uncomfortable teenagers shuffled into the room. They had not yet gotten their uniforms. Their civilian clothes contrasted against the pure walls like paint on a canvas. The first girl was wearing a long sunflower dress, her chestnut hair tied into curled ribbons on either side of her head. She had brown eyes, deeper than an old mountain, and a figure similar to a gymnast. Another sliver of emotion pinched at Cipher’s chest as he watched her sweep into the classroom, but her coy smile quickly curdled the thought.

The boy followed after. His blonde hair slicked back behind his ears. A worn-down blue suit hung loosely off his shoulders. His bright intelligent blue eyes drew giggles from a few of the girls, and he dared to prompt a wink, sending another flurry of titters through the room.

When the third girl entered, it was as though the room forgot how to react. No one said anything or tried to press for her attention. She merely walked in behind the other two, and

She was an overweight girl, though you could hardly see her figure through her clothes. Burgundy tips frayed the end of her dark brown hair, as though it was just at the end of washing out paint. Her face was pasty white, splattered with muddy brown freckles. Her hands fiddled with a small frayed braid trailing down the side of her face. Her eyes were peacock green, though one was considerably darker than the other, and they flicked around the room with apprehension.

The girl’s eyes met his.

Her bright eyes peered at him through the curtain of her long bangs and they stayed fixed for just a moment longer than they should have. A tingle shuddered over his chest at her attention. The brilliance of her eyes, watching through the canopy of hair: something about it commanded his attention. He could feel the emotion of interest slowly start fade as her eyes stayed fixed. Despite himself, he leaned forward, as if to grab the emotion before it could escape. The desperation barely even raised his heart rate. The fleeting feelings the girl inspired faded faster than a candle in a storm.

Then a miracle happened.

A bright red flood washed away her freckles. Her green eyes ripped away from his gaze and she cheerfully greeted the rest of the room, avoiding even looking in his direction.

The movement was so bizarre the boy couldn’t help but stare.

His eyelids tried to reset his brain by flickering like haunted lights. What did that action mean? What had just happened? When blinking didn’t work the only thing left was an attempt to recreate the situation.

He barely managed to catch her eye again. She was very keen to avoid him. But their eyes did meet.

Cipher felt as though someone had released a cougar inside his chest. A flurry of something he couldn’t explain chiseled at the ice in his veins. It felt like his vision was being hyper-focused and blacked out at the same time. Electricity attacked his joints, sending numbness rolling like waves across his skin. Heat rippled through his chest. He found himself unable to blink and unable to breathe. He found himself swallowing back something he couldn’t identify or control. His fingers gripped around the edges of his desk so hard he could feel the wood depressing under his grasp. She pretended as though she hadn’t been looking at him in the first place.

But that flush. That beautiful flush. It radiated from the tips of her ears until it collided over the bridge of her nose, cascading down her neck.

Now, her dark hair was strawberry colored, hidden under a dark brown power or dye. Her red tips looked more like she had singed the ends into a scarlet firework. She bound her locks into a messy braid on one side of her face. Her adorable freckles seemed to be begging him to trail his fingertips over them. To connect them all like constellations. Her hourglass figure was hidden underneath her expertly modest clothes, including her rumpled half-jacket that didn’t fit quite right. Her bangs were longer on one side to hide her darkened eye, but the braid she so frantically pulled at fully revealed her deeper green one.

And that blush, that indecipherable blush. If only he could taste how far that blush trailed down her collar. He was certain the heat would rest on his tongue if only he could get near enough.

The sound of a hyena’s laughter tore his eyes away from the girl’s shaking body.

Esme Duvellian was talking to one of her underlings. In terms of hens, she was the rooster of the coop. The young, timid girl Katelin Rice-who Esme was talking to- pulled at the edges of her skirt, attempting to hide her knees under the pleats. Esme whispered her orders. The Duvellian clan was known for their unsavory dealings, including a smuggling business supposedly linked to the global mafia. Of course, none of that could be proved beyond a reasonable doubt, so the truckload of blood money was still free to be used on Esme’s ‘higher’ education.

Cipher attempted to look disinterested out the window, barely managing to keep his eyes off Leila’s sweeping form as she made her way to her desk. She sat two chairs to his left, making it impossible for him to hide his wandering eyes without drawing suspicion.

He berated himself for not paying more attention when she introduced herself. What was her name? What was her star sign? What was her blood type? Her birthday? The storm in his chest swelled up again as he stole another glance at the girl.

What was that . . . that . . . swell? That feeling? What torture was his heart trying to inflict on him? And why did it feel so . . . good?

Was it a feeling? He wondered.

That, in turn, sent a whole flurry of tingles and shakes through his body. Without meaning to he glanced across at her again and her flushed face caused a whole new sensation.

He forced a solemn look onto his face as his lips attempted to crack a smile. His eyes focused on the board ahead of him, though he could scarcely hear Mr. Graves over the sound of his own pounding heart.

Esme flipped her hair, attempting to draw his eye to the back of her head. Katelin attempted to observe him sideways, which was difficult to do since he was seated behind her.

Better keep them entertained. He realized suddenly, letting his gaze follow Esme’s platinum blonde hair. Katelin cleared her throat and Esme peeked over her shoulder as if by accident, smiling and twiddling her fingers in his direction.

He offered her a half-smile, flicking his eyes back to the board as though he had been caught, and smiled to himself, running his tongue over his teeth. What did she like to eat? Who were her friends? What would her skin taste like? What expression would she make if he ran his teeth over her body? What shampoo did she use?

1000 unanswered questions.

He wanted to know everything about her.

He needed to know everything about her.

From this distance just knowing she was just beside him was driving his heart rate through the roof. His mind felt like it was being shredded into a thousand curly pencil shavings. He could feel himself combatting the tidal wave of blood racing to his face. Just half an hour more. Just fifteen minutes more. He couldn’t take notes, but he had to take notes. How could he provide for her if he didn’t do well in school? His mother had been adamant he excel, and now he understood why. So many of his mother’s lessons were now falling into place. The playing pretend, the studying actors on screen. Knowing how and when to say or do something. Every time she woke him up in the middle of the night to do something menial like take a picture of the moon, or recalibrate a telescope in hourly intervals. How to make and keep friends. Every lesson made sense.

He could barely keep himself focused on the board, overwhelmed by the amount of sensory input he had been missing out on. Her location was ingrained into his consciousness. He found himself counting glances of everyone who looked at her, simply trying to sort what emotion was what. He assumed the bubbling fountain coming from his lungs was happiness. He assumed the freezing needles on the back of his neck was longing. He had yet to identify the pit in his stomach, but with the slow elimination of emotions, he was quite certain it must be hunger of some variety.

When he caught eyes with Damien, he realized his face was not doing a good enough job at hiding these new emotions. Damien smiled so wide, he had to use his tongue to reshape his cheeks back to normal.

Cipher suddenly had a new appreciation for his friend. Now he had someone he could talk about these experiences with. It was as though he were seeing color for the first time, yet it was nothing like that.

Every time someone looked in her direction his eyes became focused on them. Why were they looking at her? What could they see? The freezing needles prodded at his spine and he risked another glance while Brady Rothchild attempted to solve a simple math problem with a drawing of a penis.

The girl’s peacock eyes were already looking his direction when he cocked his head to the side. His butterfly filled stomach turned upside-down and his lungs crackled with fireworks as they looked at one another. As soon as their eyes connected she would turn to look out the window, red leaking onto her ears as she pretended to be fascinated by the outside world.

Why is she avoiding me? Cipher thought desperately, Did I do something wrong? Does she like me? Hate me?

He realized he had been staring for far too long and quickly returned his gaze to the board. He saw Esme’s void-like black eyes asking him a thousand questions from where she sat, and he winked at her to try and stay her curiosity.

Don’t you dare go after her. He thought wildly. He couldn’t fathom what new emotion this was. Perhaps his mother could explain. Esme turned back around and he wished he could see her face to gauge her reaction.

After what seemed like an instant trapped in eternity, the bell rang. Without sparing a glance, or saying a word Leila grabbed her bag and ran from the classroom. Before he could stop himself, Cipher was on his feet, three steps towards the door. Something didn’t quite sit right in his stomach. Damien snatched his arm.

“Hey, Cy,” Damien said louder than he needed, “Your stomach still bothering you?”

Someone stifled a snort behind him. Cipher swallowed the avocado in his throat. His eyes were glued on Damien’s face. He wanted to punch his friend. He wanted to find the girl, to spend his day chasing her. He wanted to see the look on her face if he caught her.

Not now. Damien’s eyes seemed to say. He would have never understood that look if it hadn’t been for her. He had a million questions to ask her. His thoughts were only filled with her. No doubt in his mind remained.

She had to be his.

She had to be only his.

Damien’s hand tightened around his wrist. A long heavy sigh resonated through Cipher’s chest. There was more work to be done. He had to take it slow. Had to convince her she couldn’t be without him before anything else happened.

Again, he scolded himself for drawing attention. He never rushed out of the room. It was unheard of. There were ten minutes between classes, there was nowhere he had to be to rush to. Esme had always been in charge of the initiation for his Fanclub, and if she noticed his behavior, he was certain the punishment would be severe.

A swell of new emotion filled his mouth with tar. It felt as though every hair on his body was standing on end. His eyes drifted to a cackling Esme. She had pulled the hem of her skirt well past her thigh and was bouncing her long caramel legs playfully under her desk. Katelin had already left the room. Cipher had the inexplicable urge to rip her throat out.

Anger? He wondered. The bubbling pot of lava surged through his lungs. It felt hot. It felt like something that should be stronger than iron was sitting melted in the pit of his stomach. Sensations of pain and pleasure crept across his spine.

“Let’s get out of here,” Damien said after his friend made no attempt to answer.

Cipher was led out by his elbow. Despite the blank look on his face, it was clear to everyone watching that something had happened to shake the boy. None of them had seen that dark shadow looming over his eyes before.

Who is Leila Quinn?

Leila Quinn.

Age: sixteen.

Height: 5 ft 9.9in (177.7cm).

Weight: 165 lbs (177lbs but who’s counting).

Mood: Something close to the sound of a whale call mixed with the noise it makes when a blender is blending, but not the way it was supposed to be.

She stared at the man standing at her front door. She had no idea her father had entered her into the scholarship. She had no idea her father even knew about the Academy scholarship. To be perfectly honest, she wasn’t sure her father could even read.

The man by her front porch held a blank expression over his face. He wore a well-tailored grey suit and a perfect bowler cap. He had the body of someone who ate well but worked hard to stay in shape. His ghostship grey eyes blinked so slowly, she thought he might be falling asleep standing up. Eventually, she looked at the envelope clutched in his hands.

“You know what this means?” the man asked. His voice felt like flour running over her hands.

“If I win, I’ll get the best education money can buy.”

“And if you lose?”

“I’ll be footed with the bill. Both Kidneys and a lung, am I right?” The man stopped himself from chuckling.

“Not quite. You won’t owe as much as that. Though it would put your family into considerable debt, especially bearing in mind your mother’s . . . predicament.”

Leila swallowed hard. She wondered why threats always left a syrupy sweet aftertaste in her mouth.

“So do I need a bag packed or are we stopping by the tailor’s first.”

“You will not necessarily need a change of clothes,” he said, “but I am to recommend a set of dark clothes to you for the competition.”

“How soon do we leave?”

“I will take you as soon as you are ready. You may pack a bag no bigger than a small backpack with whatever you desire, but keep in mind there are some items we won’t allow.”

“Like a gun.” Leila joked.

“That is not one of them.” The man said solemnly.

Leila hadn’t realized the weight of the situation until that moment. She fidgeted and thought, looking around the room she was in. From her position by the front door, she could see every room in the house, even into the corner bathroom, when the door was cracked open. The trash covering the floor gave the appearance of a ram shackled old dump, but in reality, it was a dumpy old ram shack. Bottles, wrappers, and spare electronics covered the entirety of the floor. Small pockets of blankets and pillows designated a sleeping area just at the corner of the kitchen. She knew education wouldn’t fix everything, but getting out of the dump she called a school certainly wouldn’t hurt her chances in the future.

She thought of her mother curled into a small cubby muttering to herself. She thought of her father drinking away the little money he had. She would do almost anything to get out.

She tried not to feel embarrassed as she attempted to block as much of the house behind her that she could.

“Let me get a bag.” She said. The man bowed as she went into the far corner of the house, scraping away the trash covering the corner between the bathroom wall and the far outside wall. She wrenched at the broken floorboard, pulling the nails from the rotting support beams beneath her. Hidden between the slats, underneath a worn-out piece of quilt, was a small pile of trinkets and goodies. A tattered leather wallet wrapped around all of her documentation, and what little cash she had collected. Her parents were unaware of the three hundred dollars she had squirreled away. She knew from experience what her parents would do with the money if they found it. A half-filled lighter and a leather bundle sat beside her waterlogged school books and she picked the whole pile. Leila reached her arm deeper under the floorboards. Her fingers fumbled in the dark recesses of the shack until she found what she was looking for. She pulled a black newsboy cap and a thin six-inch jeweled blade. She brushed the dust off the items before adding them to her small pile of stuff. She spun in a circle, picking out a crimson tank top and a pair of dark jeans from the pile of clean clothes. She grabbed her black leather half-jacket from its usual spot by the door. Leila put her items as well as the change of clothes into her school bag, adding a set of pencils, a scarf, and a pair of black gloves to her collection.

“Are you ready?” the man asked. Leila gave a final once over, quickly replacing the floorboard and the things covering it before joining the man outside.

“Miss Quinn?” the man said as he climbed into the driver's seat, “Do you need to leave a message for your parents?”

“No,” she said back, “I’m usually gone for days.”

“Very well Miss.” He said.

And with that, he started to drive.

Leila woke up to find herself tied to what she thought was a stone pillar. She could feel someone else’s hand brushing her fingertips as they groped at the ropes to try and release their own bonds. She attempted to look around, only to realize she was blindfolded, and on top of that, there was a thin black bag over her head with a thin string keeping the bag secured. She felt a weight on her lap and she realized there was a bag; probably her bag. She ran her fingers over every inch of the block she was tied to when she realized the rope she could feel was not her own.

It was for the two people beside her.

“That is evil.” She said aloud.

“What is?” the girl asked beside her. Her accent was thick and southern. It tasted like homemade sun tea.

“Do tell.” A sultry Welsh voice asked from across the room. Minty chocolate pressed itself against Leila’s tongue as she listened. His voice echoed, revealing two distinct features of the room.

It was big. And it was stone.

“Our ropes,” she announced to the slowly awaking room, “They are connected to the people on either side of us. We can’t untie ourselves but we can untie each other. And I’m guessing the fewer people we untie the better advantage we’ll have, yet we have to convince the people around us to untie our bonds, or we’ll never get out of here.”

“I doubt that’s what the real challenge will be.” Another female voice said, her voice thick with a New Orleans accent. A thick caramelized blend of spices swirled in Leila’s mouth, burning all the way down to her stomach.

“Ew, I hope that’s not who I think it is.” The Sun tea grumbled.

“Oh, you better believe it, Ti Damn.” The Spices girl said, her position changing from the room.

“You’re out already?” the Mint asked.

“Please. They only used ropes. It’s not hard for me to get out of chains, but ropes are especially easy.” She responded.

“Can’t you let the rest of us out.” A rather distinct Swedish boy asked groggily. The smell of a boggy forest swamp, rich with life, overwhelmed Leila’s senses.

“I could, but what’s the point of all of you being here if you’re going to give up on the first step.”

“You have to let us out then,” Leila said.

“Do I, Miss Irish?” Spices said.

“Yes,” Leila said, “because based on the fact you are still in the room, something is stopping you from leaving. And though we’ll betray each other in the end, right now, someone will be of use to you.” All the voices fell silent and suddenly Leila could feel her ropes being released.

“Well, I will say this, you certainly do make a good argument, Cher.”

“She sounds rather intelligent despite everything,” Mint said.

“Be careful, Cou yon, or she might not let you go.” There were a few shouts as Leila untied herself the rest of the way. The walls were higher than she expected, even going so far as to fade into the dark ceiling. There were twelve pillars evenly distributed across the room, each with 4 bound and blindfolded teenagers expertly tied around their base. On everyone’s laps were identical black bags, each with a personalized lock. Hanging along the walls were matching keys to go with each bag. All of the bags were numbered but the keys weren’t. The far end of the room stood a giant set of oak doors with two opposing wrought Iron locks on either side.

Yet none of those kept Leila’s attention. Instead, the piles of gold coins shimmering under the dim lights hanging over the silk tapestries drew her eye.

“First time seeing a treasure room, cher?” Spices teased. She was a beautiful girl, with skin the color of a dark oak tree just after a storm. Her hair was rich and black, pinned behind a thick pink headband with stars stitched in a navy blue. The blue stitching perfectly matched her brilliant blue eyes, examining every aspect of the room. Her black bag was opened and slung over her shoulder. She was spinning the key around her finger, which was adorned with a beautifully manicured claw.

Spices let out a low drone of a whistle.

“Those are some eyes you’ve got on you.” She remarked.

“Same said to you,” Leila said.

“I get that a lot. I’m half French and my dad’s eyes seemed to stick when I was born.”

“Well, I can’t tell you where my eyes come from.”

“So who do we let out?” she remarked, jabbing her key towards the rest of the room.

“Who’s Southern Belle?” Leila asked.

“Really? That’s what you came up with for my name?” Sun tea shrieked.

“She’s a rich kid, but not quite rich enough for the Academy.”

“Would you be of use, Belle?” Leila called back.

“My name is-“

“Bored now!” A male New Yorker voice shouted from across the room. He felt like the first drops of rains in the hot summer heat. “Let me out and I’ll do whatever you ladies want. I’m quite handy.”

“You mean handsy.” The girl next to him spat. Her voice was from somewhere Spanish, though the specific dialect was mixed between Cuba and Spain. The smell of fresh bread.

Voices crashed over each other until the room was practically shaking with the noise. A swirl of different smells, tastes and feelings overwhelmed Leila’s senses. She covered her ears. The noise reverberated sensations over her.

“ENOUGH!” A scream cut through the noise. A pike resting in the palms of her hands.

Half of the room fell silent the other half continued to shout and argue. Leila searched for the source of the noise, eyeing each immobilized kid with apprehension.

“My name is Veronica.” The voice said calmly, “I am the administrator of your acceptance test for Agatsuma Academy. First, let me congratulate you on making it this far. If you are here it means you were at the top of our waiting list and there’s still a chance for you to get in.” No one made any move to speak as the voice paused, as if expecting applause. “Let’s move on to more important matters. We have had two openings in our academy, meaning two of you will be lucky enough to attend Agatsuma Academy full time. Your tuition will be provided and the rest of you will be required to make some payment to remain on the waiting list.”

A sort of somber silence fell over the room. Everyone present was suddenly aware of how much they had to lose. Everyone’s brains were grinding wildly, trying to find a way to escape.

“As for the task at hand, the lot of you are trapped in the vault of a very old but very up to date private gallery. The owner is currently monitoring his cameras with his two security guards to make sure none of you take anything from the vault. Now let me tell you your objective.”

Leila could feel the entire room straining to hear what the woman had to say. It was as though someone had placed a plastic bag over her head as she waited for the instructions she almost knew were coming.

“Your goal is to escape the vault and the gallery with as much in assets as possible. You have until Eight o’clock. Good Luck.”

There was a click as the woman’s microphone shut off.

For a few brief moments, the room was silent.

Leila could hear someone else’s heartbeat hammering just as loud and just as hard as her own.

She used her foot to step over a single gold piece, turning as if she were going to search the room for cameras. Spices was the first one to shatter the glass bubble around them.

“Well, Cher,” she cooed, “looks like you better hurry up and figure out who you want to let go. Otherwise, people will start pairing up real quick.”

“Let’s release people on opposite sides, so only half get out. Then we can search the trapped half’s bags and loot them while we figure a way out of this room.”

“My, my, you are rather brutal aren’t you. What’s your name, Cher?”

“You can just call me Cream. No need to get attached.”

“Ah, and what would you call me?” she purred, leaning in with a glint in her eye.

“Spices.”

“And me, love?” the Mint asked, straightening his collar as he approached. He had brown hair and brown eyes with a poorly fitted leather jacket wrapped around his shoulders. His restraint partner was already rummaging through his locked bag.

“Mint.”

“Just making them up, are yeh?” Summer storm said. He was paler than snow, with black eyeliner greasing under his eyes and short black hair flipped over half his face. He seemed to have taken the idea to dress in dark clothes a little too far considering he was heaped in black. The only thing that wasn’t perfectly black where his chestnut eyes.

Probably a point of contention with him and his genetics.

“I’ll start getting keys,” Summer Storm said, “Start untying people before they untie themselves.”

“How did you two get out?” Sun Tea shrieked, pulling at her restraints like a dog on a leash.

“Please,” Mint said, “You have to stop screaming. We were right next to each other. Of course, we would untie each other. Anyone could see where this was leading.”

“Hey, untie me!” Sun Tea attempted to shout to her side.

Her shouts fell on deaf ears, however, as Spices was already untying the two girls on either side of her.

“I do not think so.” A girl with an Ulsan accent laughed. The bubbling of a river. “Less is better in this case. You will be gotten if we need you.” She had a perfectly straight cut around her head, with equally straight bangs hanging just over her eyes.

“You can’t just leave me here!” Sun Tea screamed again.

“Don’t worry. They’ll come and get you once everyone’s gotten out.” The Spanish girl said from across the room as she rubbed her wrists where the ropes had been. She had been on the same pillar as Mint and Summer Storm. They had untied each other, and that meant another person had to be untied to ensure no more competitors were released.

Eventually, twenty-six teenagers were spread throughout the room, some stuffing their pockets with gold coins, others were mulling around the room, searching for some kind of security system.

“What should we do first, Cher?” Spices asked, leaning against the giant Iron door.

“Well, first we should cover the paintings on one side of the room.” Leila whispered, “I think that’s where the cameras are. Then we can use the pillars to hide how much we’re taking.”

“Why would that matter? We just need to get out right?”

“Don’t you think it’s weird she stated a time? Instead of a time limit? Why is that?” Spices contemplated an answer as Leila used the worn-out quilt to cover one of the paintings.

“I see your point. Do you have a plan?”

“I have part of a plan. More of a theory really.” Leila said, keeping her voice low, “I think we might be in a museum or something. We can probably escape with the other people visiting, but we have to make sure they don’t recognize us.”

“So, we should change clothes?”

“Not yet. I’m not sure if they’ll use pictures or general descriptions, or if there are more camera’s later on.”

“I see what you mean. If that’s the case I’m sure they’ll use both to search for us. If we can get away without being searched then we’ll be okay, but unfortunately for us, we’re very recognizable.”

“Yes. But, hopefully, no one else has realized all of that yet. For now, let’s try to fill our pockets out of the camera’s view.”

Spices didn’t need to be told where the blind spot was. She scooped coins into her bag and filled her pockets with jewels. Leila stuffed her pockets to the brim with treasure, even weaving a string of pearls around her ponytail and stuffing doubloons into her socks. When both were satisfied, they had enough loot, they joined the rest of the group to the door. Two tumblers sat on either side of the door. Too far for one person to pick themselves.

“You two done?” River said, “What’s your brilliant plan, Irish?”

Half of the group was still searching through the piles of treasure or searching the rest of the room. The people still tied to the poles tore at their ropes, howling with outrage.

“We need to get out of here as fast as possible.” She said, “Who are the best pickers?”

“Me,” Summer Storm said, “And unfortunately that Belle has some pretty nice picks.”

“We shouldn’t need her,” Leila said. She prepared her junk picks, “I might not be as good but I should do the trick.”

“I think you mean the pick,” Mint said. He jabbed River for approval.

“I could break all of your fingers in less than a minute without restraining you.”

“More to the point,” Leila pressed, “How are you all at picking pockets? We need to make sure none of them have anything to pick the locks with.”

“I can grab all the bags.” Mint said, “What they have on their person will be harder though.”

“I can search for them.” Spices said, “But searching everyone will take time. Do you know who’s carrying and who’s not?”

“Oh I can tell you who’s packin,” Summer Storm laughed, “Four eyes and Ponytail are the ones you got to look out for. She’s at least got a knife and he’s definitely got some kind of gun.”

“I don’t want to know how you know that.” Spices said, “But don’t we need to worry about picks?”

“Not many people carry them, and even fewer know how to use them. We might need to take the Belle with just to make sure they don’t have a picker.” Summer Storm pointed to her again.

“First let’s get the picks and weapons. Then we’ll worm our way out. Spices, if you please.”

Spices danced around the room. Her body never moved in a way she didn’t control. Even the spectators couldn’t see the masterful grace of her hands. Mint began collecting the bags, and Summer Storm and Leila raced to unlock the tumblers.

There are times when the plan falls apart before it can even begin.

This was not one of those times.

Mint flung the bags through the door before anyone realized what had happened. The group of five surged through the door. Summer Storm skidded into the room, sliding face-first on the tile floor. River kicked another teenager back through the closing barricade. There were shouts of indignation as the crowd surged towards the open doors. Before they could make it through, Summer Storm and River had slammed the gates shut. The lock made a resounding ‘CLANG’ as it returned to its original place.

“Here.” Spices said. She handed over a small gilded revolver, “If I catch you pointing that thing at me, I’ll tear your eyes out.”

“I’m not an idiot.” Leila opened the chamber to prove her point, surprised to see only one bullet.

“Neither am I,” she said, tossing the remaining bullets in her palm. She started her way across the room, the darkness eating her.

“I wouldn’t do that, babe.” Summer Storm said. He was still as flat as a board, staring at the ceiling with an unprecedented amount of concentration.

“And why not?” she asked.

“Because I can see red.”

The group froze, peering into the darkened room. Glints of faint red light flickered in and out of the shadows. Summer Storm was trapped under two low beams, effectively pinning him to the ground.

“There are lasers?” Mint said, “That is so cool!”

“More than lasers,” Fresh Bread said, revealing herself from the shadows. She was a small girl, with cork colored skin. Her black hair had been cut short and tied into a perfect black ponytail. Her shoulder had large scars woven through her muscle, revealed by her black tank top. “There are also patches of pressure-sensitive floor. Some areas that are safe to move through for the lasers are very bad for the floor.”

“How did you get in here?” River spat, jabbing a finger at Fresh Bread.

“I was in my bag.” She gestured to one of the bags. It would be a tight fit at best. “I can get through the beams.”

“Like we’d let you go alone.” River growled, “I can make it through fine too.”

“And why would any of us let either of you go?” Summer Storm shouted from the floor, “Neither of you would disable the beams or even know-how.”

“There is a switch on the other side.” Bread said, “Once we make it across, we’ll open up the path again.”

“No way.” Mint said, “There’s no way to be sure you won’t let us rot in here.”

“Case and Point!” Summer Storm said, still frozen inches away from the beams. Spices slid him back into safety.

“Well, it’s not like you have a choice.” She scoffed.

“We do.” Spices said, helping Summer Storm to his feet, “We could kill you.”

“Please, you don’t know where all the beams are. If you shot at me from across the room you could trigger the alarm.”

“I understand,” Leila said. “You have no idea where all the beams are. We can’t see the beams, but neither can you.” Fresh Bread flipped her perfect black ponytail in pretended indifference. “That’s why you haven’t started to cross yet. You need us to help you see the beams. But how?”

“Over here,” Mint said. Attached to either wall in the shadows, were two sets of goggles, a chain locked them to the wall. Each set of goggles only allowed for two feet of clearance, and the purple lenses were thick and misty.

“So it’s more trust-building.” Summer Storm said, “Why?”

“Because there is more than one opening.” Spices said, “They have two openings. Everyone knows these games are always about betrayal. They also know the best kind of people to accept are those most able to adapt. The faster we trust each other, the more adaptable, the more valuable.”

“I bet we have to betray each other at the end.” River said.

“Of course.” Mint said, “Two openings are still only two openings. There are half a dozen of us here. Two-thirds of our group will not make it.”

“All of our group won’t make it if we don’t cross this barrier fast.” Leila said, “How do we solve this?”

“Easy,” Summer Storm said, “We have at least two guns. We just shoot them if they-”

“You won’t be able to shoot them.” Spices said, “We have every chance to miss, and if we trigger the alarm we’ll probably be disqualified.”

“Do you have a better solution?” Storm said.

“Of course,” Spices said, “We take all their money, then they have to disable the alarm to get their loot back.”

“How can we be sure you won’t steal it?” Bread asked.

“You lock it in a bag.” Leila said, “You keep the key, we keep the bag. When you disable the alarm, you get your bag back.”

There was a grinding noise as someone wrenched one of the locks.

“We better hurry.”


	2. A Second Meeting

Fresh Bread and River moved carefully through the minefield. It was an incredibly slow pace. The beam readers controlled their limbs like marionettes. They inched over strings and stepped over wires with such control it looked as though they weren’t moving at all.

Sweat condensed onto their bodies as they contorted. Their breaths could be heard from across the room. The desperate scrapes through the door became more frantic as the two advanced to the other end of the room. Fresh Bread was a talented contortionist. She could stretch and twist between thin wires letting her lead the way through the lasers.

Spices and Mint would direct Fresh Bread and River individually, each acting as the puppeteer to their respective puppets. Leila and Storm would stand by and hold the doors if need be.

“To your . . . left?” Mint said, straining to see.

“You sure?” River rasped. She was standing on one leg, precariously balanced over a pressure plate. The Mint jerked away from the wall, bobbing his head like an owl.

“No, put your right leg down six inches to your left.” River started to put her leg down. Even from across the room Leila could see her shake.

“Wait, stop!”

River lost her balance.

She tumbled forward. Her hand slapped against the floor. Her leg kicked out. Bread swerved to avoid the attack. She ended up in a backbend, hands and legs on either side of a pressure plate suspended over strings of red light.

“Shit!” Spices shouted, “Someone tag out with Mint.”

“I’m fine!” he shouted back.

“Clearly not,” Storm said, “It’s a miracle we aren’t hearing alarms.”

“It’s unlikely.” Leila said, “They missed all of those beams?”

“Shut up.” Spices said, “We need to concentrate on getting them out of there. Cher, take the glasses.”

“I’m fi-”

“Your eyes need a rest, Mint. Take a breather and come back in a minute. We’ll get them out of there.”

“Let me help,” Storm said, “You need a break too.”

“Fine.”

“A little help!” Bread shouted, “This is not an easy position to hold.” Leila pulled against the chain connecting her to the wall. The thin streams of light were more difficult to see from her current distance.

“Alright,” Leila said, “You have clearance above the plate, can you flip to a handstand?”

“Can I- ¿Soporte de mano? ¿Estás jodidamente loco? ¿Crees que soy un maldito acróbata? ¿Qué es lo próximo que quieres que baile? ¿Te sirvo un poco de té? Est-”

“Can you do it or not?”

“Si, yes. I can do it, you maldito jodidamente.”

“Okay, when you get on your hands, be sure to keep your legs straight up. Then you need to turn around one hundred and eighty degrees and-“

Bread continued to curse in Spanish, following Leila’s directions with careful accuracy. There was a painful jolt of panic as she hoisted her legs up and over.

“You aren’t going to like this next part.” Leila said, “I need you to lower your legs straight down, keeping them as close to your body as possible.”

“How much permission do I have?”

“How much what?”

“Space! What is my space?”

“Oh. About . . . three inches.”

“Did you say three?”

“Tres. Yes.”

“Dios Mio . . .” Fresh Bread shook so bad sweat flecked off her body.

“Don’t blame me. This is the best way to fix this.” Leila strained her eyes as she pulled to the edge of the chain. The thin beams flickered in and out of view. “If you have to fall, fall to your left.”

“Shut your mouth. I need to concentrate.” One foot hit the ground, and she used it to help the other to the ground. She shakily stood up. Her chest moved like a college student’s stress ball.

“Let me know when you’re ready,” Leila said. Across the room, Storm was instructing River back towards the other side, attempting to untangle her from the web of string.

“I am ready.” She panted.

The loud, jilted grind of metal on metal ripped through the room. They could hear shouting and cheering from the other side of the door.

“Tag us back in. We need to hurry.”

It became a race. The slow instructions verse the hoard of angry teenagers left behind.

Chanting.

Fresh Bread was almost clear. River was only a few feet behind her.

“Here,” Storm said as he handed Leila another set of bags, “We need to run and turn the system back on as soon as we get through. I don’t know if anyone here has a clock but I certainly don’t.”

Leila hefted the three bags as she braced at the starting line. She counted the steps. Each of the pressure plates loomed against the floor, sharks in the water.

Only a few more inches until they all were free.

Another sickening crunch of metal against metal. The other lock had been turned. There were cheers from the other side of the door. River was the first to break free from the lasers, diving for the switch. There was a dull drone as the power disengaged.

“Go!” Mint shouted. Spices tore off her goggles, sprinting for the other door. Storm and Leila were sprinting across the open room, headed for the power switch on the other side.

“Avoid the pressure plates!” Mint shouted behind them, hot on their heels.

They didn’t need to be reminded.

The doors screeched open behind them.

“GET THEM!” Sun Tea screamed, pointing a golden scepter like the red queen. She stood at the forefront of the group; her curly brown hair tied into a tornado at the back of her head. Her coffee brown eyes burned holes into the six deserters’ heads with such malice there was a chance they might explode.

The droll of the room disengaged. The silence was overtaken by outraged screams. A gun went off. The bullet ricochet, thirsty for blood.

The party of six crossed the threshold and there was a buzz as Fresh Bread flipped the switch. River fired back with a gun no one knew she had, covering the escape through the open door. An alarm blared the moment the system was back on, and a wrought iron gate started to descend over the doorway.

“Don’t let them get away!” Sun Tea shrieked.

The bag carriers blew through the door last, just in time for the gate to lock in place behind them. The hoard of teenagers clawed through the iron, reaching with knives and guns, firing wildly in the corridor.

The marble stairs spiraled into the air, lights embedded into the ridges of each step to illuminate the path. They didn’t stop. Feet hammered invisible railroad spikes into the stairs. Lungs wheezed and rasped for air.

River and Bread could barely move, their limbs shivered at every strain. Storm and Leila were weighed down by everyone’s bags, heavy and tired. Spices and Mint were tired too, but more mentally exhausted from the strain of concentration. They led the way.

Eventually, all emerged into a bright corridor, with a long red rope blocking the top of the stairs. Paintings lined the walls in protective cases with bright white lights illuminating their canvas. Large open rooms filled with bones, statues, and sculptures at either end of the hallway. The men’s bathroom door faced the group from ways down the hallway, though a few patrons stood between the hall and safety. A dull drone of voices hung over the area, and a loud alarm announced there had been a robbery. Guards covered the exits. They searched everyone leaving, glancing between their screens and the crowd of people.

“Here.” Spices said, she took her bag from Leila’s shoulders, and the others grabbed their bags in turn. “Let’s split. Ladies, head to the restroom, guys, same to you. It’s everyone for themselves after this.” She made deliberate eye contact with the redhead as she scanned the group, “Good luck.”

“It’s been fun working with you.” Mint said, “Hope you all make it.”

“Naïve.” Fresh Bread spat, snatching her bag from Storm, “I’ll see you all never.” She strolled off, expertly ignoring the suspicious glances from the other patrons.

She worked as an excellent distraction, drawing the eye of everyone as she merged with the crowd, heading straight for the door.

The others used the opportunity to slip out unnoticed separating as casually as possible.

River, Spices, and Leila circled to another hallway with the women’s restroom. Girls were fixing their makeup in the mirror. They complained about the inconvenience of someone robbing the museum. The tallest girl, a platinum blonde stood at the furthest mirror, clearly a place of honor. She wore a bright grey blazer with her school emblem embroidered on the collar. The other two stood side by side by the door, gossiping loudly across the room. The two younger girls wore causal dresses, one of them paler than Storm, the other sprayed with so much bottle tan she appeared to have fallen into a Cheeto factory.

“Couldn’t they have waited half an hour?” the blonde complained. The color Pink.

“I know right.” The pale girl said. Pop rocks crackled with her voice. River and Leila entered stalls as Spices joined the girls at the mirror, taking a makeup kit out of her bag. “I heard there were, like, thirty of them.”

“I heard one of the guards say there were shots!” Spices added, “Isn’t that freaky?”

“No way.” Blondie said, “And they’re keeping us here?”

“Why do they think we’re the thieves?” Spray tan said, “We’re here on a school trip.”

“You too?” Spices pried.

“Yeah, Valley high, junior.” The blonde said.

“I’m from Westville.” The orange girl said.

“Me too.” The pale girl said. “What grade are you in?”

“I’m a Senior!” the orange girl puffed up with pride.

“I’m only a sophomore.” She sighed.

“What about you?” The blonde said.

“I’m from Westville. Also a Senior,” Spices turned her attention to the spray-tanned girl. “We must be in different classes.”

“Oh-uh-yeah. Must be.” The orange girl snapped her makeup case closed, hurrying out of the room. “Come on, we should get back to the bus. This fiasco probably means we’ll be going home early.” The other Westville girl trailed behind. The Valley girl stayed put.

“You didn’t have to be an asshole to her.” Valley High said.

“I wasn’t.” Spices said as she applied a bright blue lipstick.

“Really? Calling her out for saying she was a senior?”

“I didn’t call her out.”

“Saying you were also a senior wasn’t calling her out?”

“Not my problem she’s cracked at the first sign of pressure.”

“Whatever.” Valley high flounced out of the room, muttering in disgust.

“Okay, they’re gone.” Spices announced, clicking the lock in place, “We have a few minutes. We should change clothes now. What do you have?”

“Give me your hairband,” River said, “And you can take her hat.”

“Alright. Cher, trade jackets with me, and I’ll give you my blending powder to put in your hair.”

“I have a pair of high heels,” River said, “And a dress.”

“Oh, I’ll take the dress.” Spices said, “We should dump the bags too. Switch to our own.”

River changed into Leila’s dark red top with Spices black skirt swirling around her thighs and her pink hairband resting on her forehead. She had long stockings reaching just under the hemline, and Leila’s worn-down sneakers swamped her feet.

Spices was wearing a thin black dress, clearly meant for bars or school proms. Leila’s blue half jean jacket matched her new blue makeup, and the black newsboy hat sat perfectly atop her long curls. River’s practical runners and a pair of blue socks completed her outfit.

Leila was left with the rest. Her jeans hung over River’s black heels and her black tank top acted as more of a crop top around Leila’s much larger boobs. The heels were surprisingly well-fitting, if only because the straps were adjustable. Spices leather jacket was a little long for Leila’s arms, but not enough to look unnatural. The dusty powder combined with a little water dampened Leila’s bright red locks enough that she could pass for a brunette or a blonde with a bad dye job. Leila hung the pearls around her neck to complete the look.

The three transferred their loot into more casual bags, stuffing the black sacks and keys into the vents between the bathrooms. They stuffed the bags with tampons and dirty rags under their things. The girls joined the crowd, chattering amongst themselves with annoyance. Bread was sitting in cuffs in the corner, tears tracks ran down her face with her open black bag in the corner. She spotted us and turned away, lip threatening to release the flood of tears again.

Spices reached the search station first. She slapped her bag onto the counter, stretching her arms out wide.

“Alright Daddy, let's get this started.” The guard winced. He gingerly ran his hands over the seams of her clothes, patting and checking for any sort of hidden jewels. Another guard checked her bag, pulling an extra-large tampon from the sack like a dead rat.

“Oh, I bet you’re loving this, you perv.” She spat. A conveniently timed camera shutter made the man hand her back her bag, shaking his head with disgust.

“Why are you here?” he asked. The feel of sandpaper running across wood.

“I’m here on a school trip, asshole.”

“West Valley or Eastville?” The guard asked just out of earshot.

“Westville, dumbass. I’m a junior.”

“Very well. Have a nice rest of your trip.”

“At least I’ll have a story to tell.”

River followed much the same rules, but the guard searching her bag made the mistake of attempting to pick it up to hand it to her. The weight gave away her guilt.

River knew she had been made, and grabbed her bag, tearing it as she attempted to rip it out of the guard’s arms. Coins, gems, and jewelry scattered across the floor. She grabbed a handful of coins, sprinting for the door. The guards chased after her and the crowd surged, craning to catch a glimpse of the action.

Leila risked it. She stepped out into the lobby dancing back and forth along the window as she watched the guards talk to her. She walked across the window pressing her face against it as she eyed the other guards in the room. They started pressing the crowd back, attempting to pick up the scattered treasure. Leila stepped outside, wandering away from the building.

Spices waved her over. The girl sat under a large creamy tent with her loot spilled out in a long trough of treasure. A fat Asian woman counted out the coins and beads marking the numbers in a long notebook. River threw the remains of her bag into the trough, Korean curses spilling from her mouth.

“Cher, that was well played.” Spices said, “You just kicked Mira out of the number two spot.”

“Mira?”

“Mira Sook.” Spices said, gesturing to River, “Though we still have a long way to wait before we find out who wins. I’m guessing the two of us are pretty safe for the top couple spots. They have scales set out for everyone. Find your name and put your loot inside.” Leila did as she was told. She piled every piece of treasure into her trough, even pulling the coins trapped in her socks. The scale spun full circle and one of the other attendants, a tall thin man maybe in his late twenties came over and began counting.

“Leila Quinn,” Spices read, “Well it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Leila craned her neck, attempting to eye the black girl’s plaque.

Delphine LaLaurie.

“You too, Delphine.”

“Del works just fine, cher. I’m sure you’ll get used to it.”

Leila only smiled, watching Mint and Storm charge out of the museum in much the same way River had. The two high-fived, lugging their bags towards the tent.

Bron Madox, Mint, poured his considerably slimmed bag into the trough. Another attendant jumped onto the pile, counting at a hurried pace.

Ethan Date, Summer Storm, followed suit, hoisting a gem the size of his eye from out of his pocket.

“This beauty ought to be worth more than the rest of this stuff combined.” He mused adding it to the pile.

The clock struck eight just as the Sun Tea burst from the doors, gasping and holding two bags. The other four contestant’s hearts dropped. Two bags full was more than enough to push any of them out of the running.

“I have it!” She announced, pouring her first bag into the trough marked Maybelle Harper. Coins, jewels and the like came pouring out of the bag, admittedly thinner than would have been expected. Maybelle sneered at the group as she opened the other bag, dumping its contents into the trough as well.

The bag collapsed as wet shoes and clothes flooded out of it. The metal trashcan that was stuck to the inside of the stalls in the bathroom hit the table hard enough the top exploded open, letting the spill of urinal cakes to join the rest of the treasure. The attendant, the fat Asian woman who had counted Delphine’s hoard, sighed and used a dustpan to scoop the trash out of Maybelle’s pile.

“Wait! You're getting some of my coins!” Maybelle jabbed her finger towards the pile of trash, wrinkling her nose at the sight, “I better not lose value because of this!”

“You’re lucky I’m not disqualifying you.” The woman shouted back.

“You don’t have the power!” Maybelle shrieked in return. The woman scowled then scooped another big chunk of treasure, dumping it into the discarded pile.

“Stop that, you codfish!” The woman pointed the filthy dustpan at the girl, leaning across the table so it sat just under her upturned nose. “One more word out of you and I prove how much power I have.” Maybelle only huffed in response, pacing around the tent, muttering under her breath.

The five contestants waited for what seemed like hours. Leila’s heart jumped to her throat when she finally spotted a man in a perfectly fitted suit looking over the notebooks. She could feel the others leaning in around her. The man threw his head back and roared with laughter, tossing the books over his shoulder. He pulled out a satellite phone and began having a heated discussion with someone on the other end. Leila was sure she was about to be sent home. Her pile had looked much smaller than the other four piles, after all.

Eventually, the man strode over still chuckling a little from the conversation. Maybelle jumped to her feet, smoothing her skirt as she waited for the verdict. The others followed suit, eager to make a good impression on this stranger.

“I have news.” He said, “Four of you have tied for first place.”

“What?” Maybelle shrieked, “That’s ridiculous! I had twice as much as any of them!”

“That may be so, but after accounting for the price of each item and its overall value we determined four people tied at the exact same amount, down to the dollar.”

The group exchanged glances, hearts pounding. One of two things would happen. Either they all would have to compete again, or only one of them wouldn’t make the cut. Either option filled them with dread.

“I’ve spoken to the headmaster of Agatsuma, he’s agreed to let all four attend the academy.”

“But one of us didn’t make it,” Delphine said.

“This is true, but fear not, my girl, it is not you.”

“Well I know it’s not me,” Maybelle said.

“No, it’s not. It’s not either of you gentleman either.” The group simultaneously turned to look at Leila. Her vision was shaking so badly she thought she was going to pass out.

“It’s me.” She said more than asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry my dear.” Leila could do nothing but nod.

“How much did I lose by?”

“Not much. Only a few thousand.” Leila licked her lips. She was astounded at how dry her mouth had become. She wouldn’t make it. Of course, she wouldn’t make it. She had come this far only because life thought it would be funny. Nothing more.

“I see. That’s good.” She said, “I’m happy they all made it.” She reached up to unwind the string of pearls, handing them over to the man in the suit.

“I’m afraid these won’t pay the fee.” He said softly.

“They aren’t mine.” Leila said, “They’re from the vault.” The man stared at the pearls, turning his attention back to Leila.

“You’re joking.”

“She’s not.” Delphine said, “I watched her take them.”

The man roared with laughter again, holding up a finger as he pulled out the black satellite phone. There was more hurried talking and more laughter and the man was soon running back over to the group.

“I have even better news.” He said, tears streaming down his face, “Leila Quinn, despite your attempts to be disqualified, you have been granted the position of first place.”

“What?” Maybelle screamed, “Impossible! She didn’t add them to her pile!”

“Never-the-less she did steal them from the vault and hand them over to us. This particular string of pearls is worth more than eleven thousand in today’s market. You just stole yourself first place.”

Leila couldn’t believe the size of the school. The massive white towers of gold and marble loomed over the courtyard with an ominous presence. The five pieces of fresh meat were shown to their rooms. The five dormitories each held different status and a different range of privileges. Grades, relationships, or the most common, favors could boost your standing between the houses. The Bronze dormitory simultaneously working as the entry-level dorm, and the incentive to succeed. The Bronze dorm was the smallest of the dorms, despite holding the most students, with community bathrooms and sitting areas. The biggest part of the dormitory was an expansive library, covered in old bottles and streamers. Small bedrooms with the ‘bare essentials’ lined the upper floors. Leila couldn’t believe the amount of room she had. A four-post twin-sized bed with a dark wood end table in the center of the far wall, with a small walk-in closet with dark brown uniforms, pressed and folded inside. Each room was identical and small, and each student chose their rooms collecting the keys after they deposited their things.

“Do we need to change?” Leila asked the guide standing in the hall as she hung her room key around her neck.

“No,” the fat woman said, “Your usual clothes will do fine for today. You do need to have your measurements in by the end of the week, and you must start wearing your uniforms, no matter the size, tomorrow.”

The five of them made a line from the available rooms, each one right after the other. The landing held a small living area, including a kitchen with a half-stocked fridge. The ingredients inside were nonperishable and cheap, only to be restocked at the start of every month. The lowest level of dorms had simple ingredients, like rice, frozen foods, and small bento boxes sold for school credit if the students couldn’t be bothered to make their food.

The entire group was excited to see a large library on the top floor of their dormitory. The masses of books were nearly too much to comprehend. They barely even noticed the trash that covered everything in a thin layer.

“The library by my house is only a tenth of the size of this.” Delphine said, “I have to walk an hour to get a decent read.”

“My village doesn’t have a library.” Bron said, “There’s a traveling salesman who has a few stacks in their trailer we read through.”

“My library’s not bad,” Ethan said, “But there’s a lot of gang activity in my area. There was a shooting a few months back and my pap won’t let me read there for more than a few hours.”

“My family,” Maybelle bragged, “Has its own library, but my father is loath of anything to do with witchcraft. He burns books that he thinks have anything to do with the subject.”

“Oh no, your private library without the Necronomicon. Whatever will you do?” Bron mocked.

“That includes all the works of Shakespeare,” Maybelle continued a hint of bitterness woven into her voice, “Most forms of poetry, anything fantasy. I watched him burn a book about burning witches.”

“That’s horrible!” Ethan scowled.

“I know. There is nothing as devastating as watching a pile of books burn.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m sure it’s up there,” Del said. The group scanned the shelves, reveling in everything they had never seen before. They each pulled a few books from their posts, fingers lingering on the crisp fresh pages.

“What about you, Cher?” Delphine asked, “What’s your library like?”

Leila’s face burned. She hid her face behind her bangs as she looked into an encyclopedia.

“I have eleven.” She said after a much too long pause.

“Eleven Libraries?” Del asked, “Near where you live?”

“There are no libraries where I live. The church where the library was housed burned down when I was only seven. I have eleven books I’m allowed to keep.” The group stared at her. A series of blinking lights looked on as she stared at the book in her hands.

“In your house?”

“Um, sort of. My school has a lost and found. There are seven books in there.”

“Wait, so the only books you’ve read are the books in the lost and found?”

“Well, no. I save up some money and rent old textbooks, but at the end of the year, I have to give them back. My classmates and I have a book trade where we bring and exchange books. There’s a girl who hoards them. Her dad runs the local dump and she takes and resells anything she finds. Sometimes someone would lend me a book, or a series. But I’ve never seen more than a few books in one place before.” The group looked astounded.

“How did you get on the waiting list?” Ethan blurted.

“What the hell, you can’t ask that!” Bron half-shouted.

“Are you going to be alright going here?” Delphine asked, “The schoolwork is very tough.”

“Of course. I always overshoot by a year or two. Last year I bought college books by mistake. There’s a college with the same name as my high school. I can’t afford to return and rebuy new books until the rental lease is up, so I just read the review of last year and figure it out on my own.”

This dumbfounded the group, simply stared. The lot opened and closed their mouths like fish struggling to breathe. None of them could comprehend how someone could have made it this far without having access to more than a handful of books. Leila leafed through the book in her hands. The old fat woman marched into the library, a pile of papers clutched between her fingers.

“Can we check out books?” Leila asked. She held up an impressive pile of books already selected from the shelves.

“Of course. There is a barcode and a tracker in the cover. Just scan it at the door and you’ll have one week to read it.”

When everyone was satisfied with their selection of books the group moved on into the main building. A rather long tedious speech explained the randomization of their classes. Their group was split in two, and Leila trailed behind Maybelle and Bron while the others headed towards the other end of the building.

The three marched into the room, greeting the class with a few short words about who they were. A class of pristinely dressed teenagers stared back at them, completely conflicted about whether they could be interested in the newcomers. If it would be allowed. If they were worth the time. Maybelle of course went first. Her speech about her family’s stature in the southern states was almost laughable, if only it hadn’t actually meant something to the rest of the class. She sauntered to her seat, already chatting with her neighbors.

Bron went next, briefly mentioning his equestrian prowess and a slightly unsettling comment about preferring dark haired girls. He slunk his way into the second row, between the desks of three beautiful dark-haired ladies, who crackled like lightning at his presence.

Leila stepped up next, scanning her eyes over the room. Everyone’s attention was already on her thin, worn shoes, and her frayed musty clothes. She could see the sneers of disgust already forming on their lips. She spoke clearly as fast as she could. The last empty chair was already drawing her attention. On the way, she caught sight of a set of pale green eyes. The boy was tall, very tall. His long legs curled under the seat of the boy sitting in front of him, and he leaned his shoulders back perfectly against the cool stone wall. His skin was sun-kissed, though there was a hint of some darker tones already set in his attractive figure. His black hair shimmered with the dark rainbow of a raven’s wings. Above all that the deep fatigue in his eyes stared with such an intensity, it made her heart skip a beat. His gaze commanded her to dance for him whilst it provoked her to defy him.

Go on, he seemed to say, I dare you to try and do something original. I could have my pick of any girl in this school. You’re nothing special.

She turned away, fearing the insults he could hurl with his gaze. She felt embarrassed she had even dared to make eye contact with the boy. Her thoughts immediately turned to his mouth leaving a rainbow of marks on her neck. Hot kisses seared into bruises on her skin. She was sure his gentle hands had never been so rough with anyone and she wanted to see how far she could push his limits.

Preposterous. She sneered to herself. As if someone like that would spend their time chasing you.

Then something changed. A cloud of electricity quivered in the air. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she was suddenly very grateful to have worn an extra jacket.

She dared a second look.

The boy's eyes hadn’t left her face, but something had changed. The bright green irises seemed to have sunken into his head, creating a long dark shadow over his face. A hunger, unlike anything Leila had ever experienced emanated off his tense form. She could see the whites of his knuckles attempting to break the desk in front of him.

Every instinct she had learned was telling her to run, to get out. (~tO sTArt tHe chASe~)

But she stayed. She ripped her eyes away, smiling at the rest of the room. Her heart was attempting a jailbreak. It banged and pulled and screamed at her bones desperate to escape. Her face was a permanent pink and she stumbled over the last of her words before scurrying to find her seat in the corner of the room.

She had never felt more alive. She could practically feel the boy sinking his teeth into her neck, ravenous for her blood. It sent a thrill of adrenalin shooting through her spine. She dared another glance, surprised to see his blank expression.

Had she imagined it? Was it just her attraction that caused him to look that way? Her own wild imagination?

Before she could doubt herself, she caught his eye wandering sideways, preparing to steal a look her way. Perhaps it was just because she was new. She reasoned this stuffy rich kid school wouldn’t get many new people. Perhaps he was just surprised. Maybe he had somehow heard about what she had to do to win the scholarship. Maybe she reminded him of someone else.

Her head swung towards the window so fast her hair slapped her. A meager attempt to break the beat thrumming through her blood. She twisted the braid in her hair. Why would his eyes wander over her body like that? She couldn’t help but feel as though there was something . . . more about the way he looked at her. She had never seen anyone look that way. His face which had been so still when she entered had changed. The moment she turned away she could feel it. The looks the classroom had given her the moment that boy reacted. That slutty girl’s eyes had gone from interested to menacing. The entire room seemed to hum. She thought about how bees could identify other hive members on sight. How scientists tested this by painting captured bees' faces and returning them to the hive. She also knew what happened to those painted bees.

This boy is hunting me. She thought, her blush slowly returning to its normal place on her face. She realized she had been looking out the window for far too long and returned her eyes to the board. A spear of panic set into her chest. She was being stupid, there was no way this handsome rich boy was interested in her. She would have to push it out of her mind before she found herself kicked out for poor grades. She forced herself to take notes, to kickstart her brain into thinking properly again.

Hopefully, this was the only class they shared and she could forget about him.

As soon as the bell rang, she was off. Her books went into her bag and she ran.

Maybelle and Bron shared a look as Leila fled from the room. What had happened to trigger such a visceral reaction in the fearless girl they had competed with? They didn’t know the answer. But they knew the class thought it had something to do with the attractive young man staring after her.

Leila sat in her next class with a fear hanging over her head like the blade of a guillotine. She could still feel the hungry eyes caressing over her body. It was the first time someone had ever looked at her with more than disgust on their face. She wasn’t sure what to do with this new feeling, so she did the only thing she could think of: ran. Fear and delight tasted quite nice together.

Her thoughts were ripped away as a familiar face approached, followed by a pair of angry dogs on either side. The girl was tan, with bleached blonde hair. She had the figure of a model, tall, willowy, and toned. Makeup was painted expertly over her face, drawing attention away from the coal-black eyes pinched into her sockets.

“Hey there,” Esme said as she sauntered up to Leila’s desk, “I saw you making eyes at that boy during first period.” Leila eyed the girl, the guillotine blade inching closer. The smell of vanilla combined with the taste of a flaky buttery pastry filled Leila’s mouth as Esme Duvellian talked. With her best polite smile, Leila checked the exits.

Esme wore a red blazer with gold trim, the third rank dorm for the school. Her dark maroon skirt had been hiked up as far as it would go to reveal the fishnet stockings lining her long legs. She had long stiletto-heeled-boots adorned with gold spangles, and a dark maroon vest jacket embellished with gold buttons. Her white undershirt was unbuttoned to her corset, attempting to reveal cleavage she didn’t have the breasts to show. She was vying for someone’s attention.

“I don’t think so,” Leila said when Esme did not attempt to speak again.

“Oh, of course, you weren’t.” Esme laughed. The absolute condescension was enough to set Leila’s teeth on edge.

“Well, I’m glad we had that talk,” Leila said as she returned to her book.

“Well, I think you really have something. You should admit your feelings.” Something about the way Esme held herself oozed the need for control. The way the other girls moved around her, adjusting to stand wherever she needed them to be. It was like watching birds picking at a hippopotamus’ teeth. Esme’s dark eyes only deepened their hooks in Leila’s shoulders.

“I’ll take that under advisement.” Leila scoffed.

“Oh, come on, you look like a gambler. Why not give it a shot?” The comment was sickeningly sweet. It stuck to Leila’s skin like molasses. The remark needled at Leila’s skin, hinting at an insult.

“I’m sure your boyfriend is nice. But I would like to kindly ask you to fuck off.” Leila said, “I don’t have time for your nonsense. And I am not interested.” She had hoped none of these rich kids had ever been in a fight before, but the way Esme Duvellian barred her teeth Leila knew she made a mistake.

“You sure that’s the way you want to play this?” Esme’s dropped all pretenses of politeness. Her clawed hand was half ingrained into Leila’s desk. The redhead met the dark gaze with an equally icy stare. Mistake or not, she wasn’t going to let this bitch push her around.

“What’s your name again?” Leila asked with an unfriendly smile.

“Shouldn’t you know, Pleb?” the frizzy-haired girl at Esme’s side piped.

“This is Esme Duvellian. Heir to the Duvellian Clan?” the black-haired glasses girl added. Esme straightened, expecting some sort of reaction to this introduction.

But Leila was determined not to give them the satisfaction, even if she had recognized the name. She left her expression blank.

“Good for you, Es.” Leila sniped, “Could you please get your hands off my desk? You’re leaving palm sweat.” Leila could feel, rather than see the rage. She buried her nose into her book, unimpressed by the cascade of hatred oozing from the bottle blonde.

“You’ll regret that, Whore.” Esme’s voice dripped with venom, “I’ll make your life hell.”

“You’re already breathing in my face, but feel free to try something new,” Leila said absentmindedly. There was a jolt of words interrupted by the scream of the bell. Esme seethed as the teacher slipped into the room, a quite terse Asian woman.

Leila introduced herself again, pleased to see Ethan in the class as well. The two were on opposite sides of the classroom, but at least she had one person to call an ally.

Ethan was just as pleased to see the redhead, already drawing too much attention with his all-black attire. The two were relieved when the teacher allowed the class to pair up for peer review, and they stuck to each other like glue. The rest of the class was spent in quiet solidarity.

The following class, a government study, was also fortunate, with Delphine and Maybelle joining the fray. Already there was a buzz of interest around the three girls, though Del and Maybelle were receiving the brunt of the attention.

Leila was just fine with that. Her clothes didn’t flatter her figure, her hair hadn’t been styled and she was certainly not giving the welcoming smile the boys seemed to flock too. May was more than happy for the attention. She flourished and smiled and tittered at all the right moments, alluring the suitors to stay. Her superior breeding gave her more of an edge with the silver spoon lickers. Del was less welcoming, only allowing for the funniest, bravest, or most handsome of admirers to approach. And they did. A beauty like Delphine was more than enough to stimulate the plain walls of the school.

Leila didn’t contend with any of that, though she hardly had to fight the boys away. The boys who did say more than a quick greeting were quickly put in their place with a snide remark or an icy glare. Only the masochists and the conquerors spared her more than a glance. Her thoughts, meanwhile, drifted to the boy from the first class. No amount of focusing on her food could erase her heartbeat. The thought of that look in his eye, that look being directed at her . . . It was something she hadn’t experienced before. And she wanted to feel it again.

The five newcomers sat at the best table in the cafeteria and the rest of the school flocked around them, picking their group apart one by one. May was pulled first from the table, joining a higher-end group of socialites for the second half of the break.

Bron was quick to join Esme Duvellian, unaware of the threats the girl had made to one of his comrades earlier in the day. Ethan and Del joined the art students, who were clever enough to lure them into the art wing with promises of top of the line equipment.

Leila was left alone for a moment and she excused herself to the library before Esme could try to execute her revenge. It wasn’t difficult, considering no one was looking or waiting for her.

The school was almost too big to comprehend, but all of that seemed minuscule compared to the awestriking library. The bookshelves lined the walls with rounded tracks for ladders. A maze of adjustable shelves wove their way through the open room, with stairs leading to study areas atop squares of bookshelves. Computers were connected to an enclosed landing in the far corner of the room. Glass windows allowed the blue light to filter onto the shelves below. There were already groups of desperate students piled into the library, some sobbing at their seats, some muttering quietly. The thick smell of fresh paper permeated every surface and the first book Leila plucked from the shelves crackled as she stretched open the pages.

Leila wove her way through the shelves, getting lost among the piles of books. It wasn’t until she passed the third or fourth dead end that the idea of secret rooms dawned on her. she began pulling whole rows of books until she found any sign of them. A complex iron keyhole was pressed flat against the back of one of the more door shaped shelves.

Her heart raced. She pulled her picks, feeling the lock with their long metal rods. The lock was fairly simple, clearly needing a specialized key in order grant access. The picks were close enough. The lock snapped open revealing its treasure.

Hidden inside the shelves Leila was greeted with a small soundproof room. There was a large rolltop desk in the corner, stocked to the brim with all the supplies needed for any sort of project. A small round table with several cushioned seats sat in the middle of the room, a series of hooks and cubbies acted as multipurpose bag holders. A control panel sat by the door, allowing for mood music, lighting, and even themed settings to be adjusted through the walls. There was a security camera discreetly watching over the entrance to the room -leaving the rest of the room blind- hidden among the books outside.

Leila elected to ignore the rooms, for now, taking a position on one of the single alcoves carved into the shelves along the walls. She could overlook the rest of the room from her vantage point, even spying two other hidden doors from where she sat. The noise from the other groups echoed pleasantly through the room, just quiet enough to study with. She sat in her chair and began to read.

She wasn’t given much time. The bell rang shortly after she had settled into her chair, and she heaved a sigh. Even an hour and a half break wasn’t enough time to enjoy the whole library. She packed her things back up and scanned her map for the next class.

“Need help?” a cool voice asked. He tasted like a cold soup, spicy and bitter. A tall black boy stood in front of her adorned with a bright smile. His brown eyes glistened with flecks of red gold and his curly brown hair swirled around his handsome face with apt seduction. His red uniform fit perfectly around his shoulders, clearly accentuating the tones and muscles underneath. The colors were an exact match for Esme’s coat.

“Um, I don’t think so,” Leila said.

“I’m not trying anything.” The boy pressed, stepping to stay ahead of her, “I know better. A girl like you is spoken for, even if she’s not taken.” The phrase seemed a little odd, but the boy’s smile was genuine despite the mischief.

“Why would you help me then?” Leila pressed, folding her arms across her chest.

“Let’s just say I’m trying to help a friend.” The boy stuck out his hand, “Damien Pryce. And you are?”

“Leila Quinn.” She greeted, ignoring the said hand.

“Right. Can I see your schedule? I can’t help if I don’t know where I’m going.” Leila reluctantly handed over the paper. Warning bells blared in the back of her mind as Damien checked off the paper.

“How lucky! We have science together. I’ll lead the way.” He turned to lead the way.

“Excuse me,” She said, her pulse racing, “my schedule,” The boy paused for only a moment before spinning back around, hand comically hidden behind his hair.

“Oops, Sorry!” he laughed, handing the schedule back. Leila didn’t notice the phone in his hand as she slipped the paper back into her bag.

“Lead on.”

“With pleasure.”

Cipher’s heartbeat overrode all his senses. His entire being seemed to be operating on the steady drum as he approached the lunchroom. He couldn’t shake the panic that had set into his bones, though no one could tell by looking at him. His friend had been quick to offer advice on hiding the newfound emotions. Damien had never seen Cipher so shaken up before, though knowing what he knew he could understand why.

Cipher was a quick learner, compressing the façade under his usual mask of terrifying indifference. Other than the brief instance in the first hour, no one knew anything had changed. But Damien knew. The brief glimpses of Leila through the hallway had the slightest changes in Cipher’s mood. It was like watching a weight be hoisted on and off his friend’s shoulders.

The raw force of nature drew Cipher to the girl like an ocean’s current pulling him into a trench. Without her he was struggling against it, gasping for breath but only able to pull in deep gulps of water.

Cipher’s second and third classes were a bust, with no trace of the ruby haired temptress anywhere in sight. The desperation to see her again was steadily growing stronger and when the bell rang, he was one of the first to casually make his way towards the lunchroom. It was incredible, the amount of control Cipher showed. Damien mused his friend must have spent a great deal of time before the switch simply practicing every form of emotion for hours on end. He thought back to the fake lively smiling face in his first year. Without saying goodbye, the duo split, Damien heading to the usual spot he ate lunch. He resolved to watch from a distance, intrigued, and a little frightened. If nothing else it would be entertaining to watch his friend struggle.

None of that mattered though. As soon as Cipher entered the lunchroom he spotted her. She had taken, quite by chance, his usual seat, set against a marble pillar like a throne. Her friends lined some of the other seats at the table, though they were picked off one by one by the other scavengers.

It must be fate, Cipher thought, what are the chances she would take that particular seat? All the phrases he had read in romance novels were suddenly clear. His heart leaped; his throat closed. Butterflies filled his stomach. A strange sense of dread came over him as if he were standing on train tracks waiting for the steam engine to hit him. Leila didn’t even look up as he approached. They had only met today; she probably didn’t even remember him from that morning. Yet he still longed to go to her, to sit by her side.

But Cipher was more careful than ever. He painstakingly made his way through the lunch line, slowly approaching the table. He could feel Esme Duvellian’s eyes searing a hole through his forehead as she read every micro expression. Damien’s advice swirled like a witch’s brew in Cipher’s head, and he was careful to keep his mind and eyes off the girl. Less likely he would react if there was nothing to react to.

Instead, he prepared a starting topic, simply asking for his seat back from her. He recited his lines in his head as he reached the table.

Before he could say anything, however, the girl stood and walked out, disappearing on sight. Cipher’s blood boiled. He wanted to talk to her so badly he could feel his hands going numb. He forced himself to sit down and eat, slowly. Luck was on his side, as he scarfed down the few pieces of sushi sitting on his plate before he stood and left out another door. Cipher doubled back towards the west wing. His eyes nonchalantly scanned the halls for any sign of his prey.

His phone beeped.

Damien.

Ignore it. Cipher thought.

Another beep.

Damien again.

Ignored again. He had to find the girl.

Yet another beep.

Impatience rising, Cipher opened the message.

Relief washed over his back as he stared at Leila’s wonderstruck face. Both her eyes were visible in the picture, her hair swept out of her face as she stared up at the room. The smile worked like a drug. Cipher pressed himself into an alcove, unable to move. The glow emanating from her face, the sheer joy washed off the picture and into his bloodstream.

Another picture arrived, Leila running her hands along a dark bookshelf, the same elated expression still plastered in place.

I’ll be right there. Cipher messaged back. He slowly and carefully made his way towards the library. It was torture, forcing himself to walk this slowly towards his prize.

He looked at the first picture again. Damien did have a propensity for photography. Cipher set the picture to his background before he locked his phone. The thought of someone else stealing the elation from him made his blood stop. Despite himself, he quickened his pace.

She would be his.

It was destiny.

The library was more crowded than usual. The winter finals had set everyone’s teeth on edge. A few of the scholarship students had slowly lost their grasp on their standings. Damien, of course, was already sitting in his usual spot, clearly amused at the sudden appearance of his best friend. Cipher could tell immediately that vantage point was perfect for taking pictures, especially if a busty girl left her top a little too low cut.

That didn’t matter now.

Cipher could see the girl wandering through the aisles, searching every nook and cranny for secrets and mysteries. She bent over to examine the books on the bottom shelf and Cipher closed his eyes, hiding the next aisle over to wait for his blood pressure to go down. There was no way he would have been able to resist her if she had already been wearing the school’s uniform. The pleated skirt and thigh-high silk stockings would have been the death of him.

There was a click. Cipher risked a peek around the corner, amazed to see her standing in front of the sliding bookshelf door. She had already discovered one of the hidden rooms. Despite their popularity, not many of the students could get into the secret rooms without some form of assistance or key. Most kids had to ask for the key, meaning a teacher would activate the security camera in the room to make sure it was used for its proper purpose. However, everyone knew the teachers only activated those camera’s if someone asked for a key. The locks were nonelectronic, which made it easy to sneak inside as long as you had the right tools. A few of the more clever students would happily pop open the lock for a substantial fee. One student tried to print copies from the 3-D printer in the art room, but when the teachers found out all the locks were changed. None of the rooms were accessible for nearly two months after that. The Janitor’s closet became even more popular than before.

That thought, in turn, brought a whole slew of thoughts rolling through his head. What he couldn’t do with her with all those tools in the janitor’s closet.

The girl, satisfied with what she had discovered, climbed into one of the nearby alcoves, settling with a book on her lap. She curled into a ball; knees pinched against the arm of the chair. Cipher could only stare.

The longer he looked at her the more his heart accelerated.

She was completely at ease, waiting for the time to pass around her, untouched. A sly smile on her face. The way she pushed her hair out of her face when she read. The way her legs bounced in anticipation. Cipher smiled, leaning against the edge of the bookshelf, lost in thought.

Damien’s hand took the smile off Cipher’s face.

“Hey,” Damien grinned, “You planning your wedding?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Cipher scolded himself for not thinking that far ahead, “I don’t even know her name.”

“You don’t? Didn’t you hear her introduce herself?”

The boy didn’t have to admit he hadn’t.

“Gods Cy, you have to pay attention when a woman’s talking, otherwise you’ll never-” The rest of his sentence was cut off by the bell. The boys waited in silence as a group of desperate students rushed past.

“Damien, can you do me a favor?” Cipher whispered.

“You’re asking me for something?” Damien said, “What do you want?”

“Get her schedule for me.” Damien gave his friend a bemused smile, running his tongue over his teeth to hold back the jeers.

“Sure. Just don’t get mad if she falls for me.” Cipher felt that burning tingle shoot through his veins. The sensation pressed its way into his palm as he forced his nails into Damien’s shoulder.

“Make sure it doesn’t happen and I’ll make sure I don’t get ‘mad’.” Damien didn’t even wince at the sensation, though Cipher could tell by the look in his eyes he had no intention of seducing the girl.

“Her name is Leila Quinn,” Damien said, pulling his phone out as he approached her. Cipher, despite the trust in his best friend, lurched at the sight of him and Leila. The only thing that kept his anger at bay was the suspicious look on her face. He wanted to see all her expressions. Would she look at him that way?

That train was inching ever closer.

What would he do if she decided he was untrustworthy?

Well, I just have to make sure that doesn’t happen. He told himself. She can’t be suspicious if we meet under casual circumstances. I just have to be patient.

The thought of waiting for the right moment was like swallowing a gun. He didn’t want to wait for someone more confident or lucky to get to her first. What if she mistook their charm for the connection Cipher and her shared?

But if he didn’t wait and he tried to rush things she might never realize their connection. The argument ripped into his mind as he followed Damien and Leila into their science class. He trailed to his seat, careful to keep the cauldron of emotions hidden underneath.

He would still need some practice. The glances around the room were enough of a clue for that.

Leila and Damien stalled by the door. She had decided on a begrudged thank you. That tiny pout on her face was enough to threaten a smile.

So cute. He nearly said aloud. Just being this close to her was almost like being drunk.

Or dizzy.

Or drunk and dizzy.

Damien sat in one of the open seats. The wink he shot across the room was enough to get Cipher’s hackles up.

What had he done?

The motion didn’t keep his attention for long, as Leila made her way across the room, deliberately staring straight ahead.

Cipher realized the station next to his was the only one with any open seats unless she planned to sit with him.

That thought made his hair stand on end, and he forced his eyes to his phone, hoping for some sort of distraction.

Of course, Leila’s glowing smile waited for him there. It didn’t help that Damien had the highest quality camera on his phone. Cipher’s hands shook from the overload.

Luckily, he didn’t have to prepare anything as she sat only a few feet to his left.

This was getting out of hand. He thought, If I can’t learn to control myself then she’ll think I’m some sort of pervert.

Over this swirling pot of emotion was a blank mask. Cipher stared at the board as class started. The sensible thing to do would be to go home for the holidays, to talk to his mother and discuss the next course of action. His mother would be able to explain things in a way no one else could understand.

But he knew he couldn’t. The idea of separation turned his stomach to jelly. A phone call would have to suffice. He knew she would understand this decision above all else.

The class began and all else faded away. Even if it took forever, he would make her love him. He would be patient. He had to be patient. To get this right on the first try. It was all he could do to keep his eyes on the board and his ears on the teacher.

Leila’s slight fragrance was enough to tempt the occasional glance. She reminded him of the cream put on a cake, an indulgence, and a necessity at the same time.

And like all dishes, it needed to be prepared properly before anyone could enjoy it.

And Cipher had no problem waiting for that.


End file.
